


Epoch

by psalloacappella



Series: Equilibrium [14]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Conspiracy, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 Bonding (Naruto), Dissociation, Drinking, F/M, I'm here for deeper relationships and better canon, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mentor/Protégé, Multi, Overpowered children, Post-War, Team as Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 17:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21306140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psalloacappella/pseuds/psalloacappella
Summary: “What are you all even wearing?”“This is my personal attire. I don’t have work today and am reinforcing and asserting my personal life.”“By coming in on your day off to yell at your boss?”“It’s not a personal life if everyone knows about it, Sakura-chan.”Sakura covers her face with hands, groaning, if possible, in the tones of murder.❦Team Seven seals their fate and returns to active duty. Sakura keeps secrets. Tsunade prepares for next steps.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Tsunade, Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Series: Equilibrium [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/46843
Comments: 5
Kudos: 122





	Epoch

She arrives in a rush, in the clicking of heels and savage murmurs. The sounds of her delicate, dangerous fingers creasing and bending into a fist, crackles sounding off in a drum line, pop off from her knuckles. Not unlike the infamous woman who handed down the skills and taught her, she possesses a temper able to be sensed from miles away. They’re at her heels, Naruto woefully underfoot in his clingy manner, Sasuke maintaining a respectful distance behind – he’s starting to learn how to stay just out the radius of where her fist can swing.

She’s in rare form, and Shikamaru somehow feels like_ he’s_ in trouble, spine straightening out of habit as she comes striding down the hall at a furious, demanding pace. Here she comes, like all the women in his circle, really, his lot in life, strong, self-possessed, radiating angry heat. With her hair unadorned and loose, wild, some undomesticated and unbroken animal, eyes seafoam and dazzled, dressed in a far cry from any mission-appropriate attire he knows of, it’s an egregious and possibly unexpected social call that’s about to grace the Hokage’s office. In fact, all of them look rough and rollicked, an odd combination of cavorting children at play but still, the steely focus of a team with a sharp bone to pick. 

“Betting on my personal life like that, she has some nerve—”

“Sakura-chan, I don’t know whose temper I’m more freaked out by, hers or yours.”

“Well, no one asked you!”

She’s unbearably petulant, and Shikamaru watches Naruto pull back to walk in tandem with Sasuke, shoulders bouncing off one another’s. A living, breathing image of the old days. Like he’s spilling a dramatic secret, he leans closer, and Sasuke wrinkles his nose, frowning a little at the invasion of his space. 

“If you get her madder,” Naruto whispers, “her comebacks get worse and worse.”

The blond’s laugh echoes in the hall and drowns out Sasuke’s quiet retort, perhaps a cough or a snicker. It’s difficult to tell, and likely, best to keep it to oneself. 

“How do you all manage to be so loud and obnoxious so early?” Shikamaru stifles a yawn, leaning against the wall outside the Hokage’s office. “No wonder you and Ino are best friends.” 

“Don’t you bring her up to me.” Sakura’s voice is tense, and she cracks her knuckles again. Folding her arms, glaring at the closed office door, she continues. “Listen, this woman’s been _betting—_” pointing at the door with a stock-straight finger, “—on my _sex life—_” Shikamaru closes his eyes, looking offended, or perhaps nauseated, “—and as for Ino, I’m going to muzzle her!”

“Get in here and quit your yelling!”

Standing tall in the doorway, Tsunade’s fingers motion a _come here_ and Shikamaru sighs, rolling his eyes, signaling the irony to no one in particular. Naruto straightens up a little; Sasuke manages to swallow his bored yawn, feeling like somehow, it won’t augment the situation well. As they file in, Shikamaru muses on their childishness and the total, sheer absurdity of the collective power of a team that’s simultaneously the most stubborn and foolish. An undercurrent of inward laughter; they ask for the attention and stories and thus they receive. 

A familiar, inborn habit:Three-person shinobi teams lined up in front of her desk. Poised to argue. There’s a passing softness that Tsunade hopes isn’t reflected in her expression, but it’s nice to see them together again despite all the trouble. It’s how she always imagines them, the vulnerabilities and endearing aspects that drive them to chase one another and also, surprisingly, prompt a man like Kakashi to care so much, more than he deems to value much of anything else. A bounding, hyperactive blond, reminding her always of her younger brother; a stubborn young woman, clawing her way out of a pool of early insecurities, always with a little something to prove, a reflection of her earlier years. And a little apart, a loner with a consuming, dark streak, and until this, her bets would always be on the gamble that men like this could not be saved. 

Standing before her, she’s glad the story is varied enough to yield different outcomes. In a game of Go with infinite options, the pieces are moving in luckier patterns. 

Well, almost.

“Great, let’s get to business,” she says in a brisk tone, slapping her hands on the desk. “We’ll just tackle these in the order I suspect Kakashi told you to warn you ahead of time, and make this easy. Naruto! Did you move your things out of your apartment yet?”

“Ah, no, not yet,” he responds, rubbing his hand through his locks with a sheepish grin. “But if we’re really going in the order this all happened this morning, you skipped the important thing, which is that—”

As one, Sasuke and Sakura hiss, “Don’t.”

“Get your stuff out of your apartment, and move it into Sakura’s. Or, whoever’s, really. I don’t have time to coordinate basic tasks for adults,” she snaps. “Come to think of it, where’s your handler?” 

They all turn as they hear a long-suffering sigh, and Kakashi slinks in. “Tsunade-sama—”

“Save it.”

“For what it’s worth, I made ample effort to be here on time.”

“He actually tried to bribe me into getting out of this meeting,” Shikamaru corrects, hand on the doorknob. “You’re all incredibly troublesome.”

As he shuts the door, Tsunade moves swiftly forward with the agenda, undeterred. 

“Next, you!” She jerks her chin at Sasuke, who resists the urge to shrug or roll his eyes. After all this time, still not quite the fan of lectures or those in authority. Instead, he remains blank and impassive, waiting for the rest. “I expect a thank you. You’ll just need to give a statement, with witnesses, and we’ll be able to get you back to training and taking on missions. God knows we need you being productive instead of getting into trouble. I’ve convinced them it’s better this way. You’re welcome.”

Sakura’s eyes widen, unblinking, and her head twists on her neck to stare at him. She makes a quiet sound. Glancing back at her for a moment, he raises his eyes to Tsunade and nods firmly, once. 

“That’s . . . impressive,” Kakashi starts, sounding thoughtful. “How did you manage to do that?”

Chin falling in her open palm, leaning on her elbow, the Hokage closes her eyes and grins. “Well not long after it happened, no one could seem to get the details to line up. Kiba apparently didn’t remember how he got himself all roughed up. I reminded the elders that we were having trouble keeping our own interrogators in check. I also brought up that we had evidence of our own shinobi being followed without orders. I threatened them. A little of this, a little of that.”

“You’re terrifying,” Kakashi responds, chuckling. Naruto’s eyes light up, dazzling, and he lunges for Sasuke’s arm, linking it in his; the latter stiffens, again with the petulant, irritated face. Still, he lets him.

“That means we can go on missions again! We really need a handshake or cool routine like Team Gai—”

In unison, his teammates groan, then huff with annoyance in response to the unintended agreement. Tsunade looks between the two, on opposite sides of Naruto, trying a little too hard to make it appear that nothing’s changing, that they are absolutely void of a bond. In the intervening pause, she’s dissecting the details with piercing eyes; their casual clothes, the childish awkwardness they’re carrying, and really, she’s a calculating woman, and the figurative scent is cloying in the air. 

“There’s some restrictions, obviously,” she starts again. “For now, you’ll only be permitted on missions with the people in this room. These are the only people that could have any chance of curbing your behavior, if that becomes necessary. That said, consider yourself still on a probation of sorts. They are allowed to report your actions to me, and those can be up for discussion or interrogation. They are allowed to use force if they deem you to be out of control.” Her relaxed demeanor is at odds with her eyes, and Sasuke doesn’t miss it. They’re steely, serious, and cold with only a sliver of permissive kindness. He knows she means it. “Basically, don’t screw it up, Uchiha.”

“We’ve got him, promise,” Naruto says, with his blithe tone of waving away adults’ concerns, starting to shake Sasuke back and forth, channeling his uncapped energy into his teammate’s body, a conduit. Sasuke looks pained, looking over Naruto’s head at Sakura, whose eyebrow pops up along with the corner of her mouth, a coy smirk.

There it is. 

“Code all your letters,” Tsunade reminds them, brisk again. “And you’ll need to sign and seal your decision to reform as a team so it’s on record. Just covering our bases, you know.” 

“Let’s do it, then!” Naruto yells, pumping his fist into the air. “Give me a stamp or something.”

“Nope,” she says, shaking her head. “This has to be a contract. You’ll all need to do it.”

A chilly moment settles in the office, billowing in the silence. Then, the sound of an unsheathed knife, and Sakura holds it in her hands, jaw taut and determined. 

Without a word, she grips it by the handle and raises her eyes to Naruto first, who nods several times, vigorously. 

“Kaka-sensei—”

The greyed man sighs, somehow conveying his affection for her, and for his team, in a single, errant breath. 

And last, she sets her eyes on the quietest teammate, who looks for a moment at the knife in her hand and back to her, and there’s years and moments and seconds slipping through the quicksand of the silence, drowning in a thousand things that would never pass either’s lips even if the world stopped turning. For the longest moment, no one blinks. Sakura lifts her chin a little, waiting for his answer. 

It’s a sliver of a fraction of an instant, unable to be captured. It’s ethereal, the imprint of a smile that no one can hold in time and space. It’s enough for Sakura, who finally blinks, a long, languishing flutter, like she commits his affirmation to memory. 

In a quick movement, the sun glancing off the end, dancing at the delicate point, she pulls the sharp edge across a barely-healed scar in her palm. So practiced is she that it only exudes the barest, necessary pressure against her skin, and the bright red bubbles up. Exposes it to the air. 

She extends the handle to Sasuke first.

He’s gentle when he takes it, a courtesy he never quite manages to give to anyone else. Not like this. It’s in the air, and Tsunade is another witness to the deviation of the expectant outcomes that she’s been afraid will define her student and the rising legends they’re anticipated to be. They all take a turn, passing the knife like sharing the last dregs of sake, making desperate blood pacts in the dead of night around a fire long burned out. 

Kakashi is last to sign as the witness, a dramatic flourish to end the ritual. His students beam at varying intervals of incandescent light, Naruto’s grin threatening to dim the outside sun. 

Tsunade smiles down at the parchment, and then up at them. “Welcome back, team.”

Naruto lets out a cry of joy that reaches the rafters. Sniffling a little, he passes his sleeve over his eyes out of sight from the others and plasters a smile on his face. “No big deal! Always knew this would happen, of course, ha ha!”

The Hokage rests her chin in hand again, smirking at Sakura openly. The latter doesn’t see, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watches Naruto. She’s barely able to hide it when Sasuke rolls his eyes, nudging his teammate and says, “Idiot, you’re embarrassing yourself.” 

“Shut up, Sasuke, don’t be so afraid of your feelings.”

“So let’s get to the real business,” Tsunade says, slamming her hands on the desk and standing up. 

Now Sakura’s staring her down, fingers curled into fists. “Yes, let’s.” 

“Oh come on, we don’t have to do that right now,” Kakashi says, holding his hands up with palms facing out, placating.

“So when is it going to be official?” 

“It’s not, and it’s none of your business.”

“Those earrings tell me otherwise.”

Kakashi edges toward the door, trying and failing to stay unnoticed.Sasuke shoots him a withering glare for his penchant of starting arguments he won’t stay around to finish. 

“Kaka-sensei lost his bet. I’m guessing that means you did too,” Sakura says, triumphant, folding her arms across her chest. Cracks her knuckles angrily, one digit at a time, a threatening collection of dulcet notes leading up to the chorus. 

“What do you call this, exactly?” Tsunade asks. Tone goading and droll, gesturing vaguely at her and Sasuke. 

Huffing, Sakura contorts her face as if it will hide the blush spreading fast and furious across her cheeks. Sasuke curses quietly; she’s not the best liar when it comes to her boss.

“Also, can I ask, why do you all look like—” Not finishing her sentence, she just lets her judgment waft into the air, waving blithely at their casual attire. “What are you all even wearing?”

“This is my personal attire. I don’t have work today and am reinforcing and asserting my _personal_ life.”  


“By coming in on your day off to yell at your boss?”

“It’s not a personal life if everyone knows about it, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura covers her face with hands, groaning, if possible, in the tones of murder.

“To be fair,” Kakashi says kindly, too late in trying to spare the agony, “they haven’t had many missions lately, Tsunade-sama.”

“I can tell. Well, we’ll fix that quickly. I keep hearing that you three are getting into trouble. Fighting in bars,” she says pointedly. Only Sasuke Uchiha may have the ability to unapologetically ignore her with the lofty, arrogant air he’s perfected over time. “Drinking often, staying out late, messing around—”

“Okay, mom—”

Naruto’s cut off; Tsunade slams her hands on the desk. Paper, pens, and assorted items jump and then settle. He gulps.

“You’re being—fucking—messy!” 

The silence is tense as it sinks in, and no one can quite meet her eyes. Sasuke huffs, stares at the floor. Kakashi grimaces. Sakura’s face radiates heat.

“Maybe you don’t get it yet, but you’re famous. Dare I say . . . legendary? You are adults. People are talking about you, watching what you do. Try to think about that when you’re about to drink yourself into oblivion in public or get into fights over ex's.”

“Listen—”

“Save it, Uchiha.” 

“This is rich,” Sakura mutters through gritted teeth, fingers tightening around her upper arms, turning the skin white. “Unreal. Hypocrite.”

“What was that? Oh, and don’t think your antics don’t get back to me either, Naruto.” The Hokage points a stern finger at him, and his laughs start to fade. Jaw goes slack. “I’m trying to save you all some pain. I’m telling you because I know exactly how this is. And right now, with people tailing you, the rumors, the issues we’ve had, can’t you at least try to keep a low profile?”

“Do you really think that’s easy?” Sakura snaps back. “Look at these two!”

“Sakura-chan, you almost _broke _a guy on the way here for looking at you.”

“Hmph."  
  
“Ah." 

“That’s why,” Naruto starts, in his wheedling tone that suggest this topic’s been brought up a million times before, “maybe you should just make it clear—”

“I agree. Who gets gifts after a one-night stand? I’ve been doing this all wrong,” Tsunade says, shrugging. 

“Tsunade-sama, with all due respect, perhaps this line of questioning isn’t something the Hokage should be—”

“So fucking unprofessional,” Sasuke mutters, closing his eyes, wishing he’s dropped dead at any moment before this one.

“It’s been like five or ten ‘stands at this point. Can’t you just order them to be together officially?”

“No, Naruto, that’s a dictatorship,” Kakashi says cheerfully. 

“I get it,” Tsunade laughs, her voice heavy and haughty, tinged with joyful pettiness. Sakura’s green eyes are blazing, sharp like glass. “I’ll quit betting on it. It’s been a good run. But,” she twinkles, “only if you stay and have a drink with me.”

“It’s. The. Morning.” 

“Well then don’t have one, but you need to stay. The rest of you can go.” With a flippant dismissal, she gestures to the door.

Naruto leads the way, babbling a mile a minute, a jumble of words regarding team handshakes, Hinata, Ino, moving boxes. Sasuke turns to follow, but not before she calls for him.

“Sasuke-kun.” 

The heads in the room turn to her, watch between the two, wondering, watching. Something in her tone beckons. They’re an anticipatory film, so many acts played out and thousands more to come, and no one can seem to stop. It’s garish and satisfying, all twined together. 

“Later, I need your help with something.” It’s not an ask, but a statement. He gazes at her without expression, then turns away. Kakashi is close enough to see his smirk, the way his eyes flash, red and then gone; the way every hair of his seems to stand on end and reach, something deep, ancient and shifting, the demesne of the young and damned. 

A quiet noise of assent. It’s enough for her. Kakashi files out behind him, plucking at Sasuke’s collar with a dark chuckle.

“Well, well, well,” he murmurs, tapping a fingertip at the deep, inflamed scratch visible at the base of Sasuke’s neck. He jerks away with an angry growl, quickening his pace to catch up with Naruto, who’s now envisioning and detailing his perfect team motto. The latter opens an arm without turning his head to let his best friend into his vicegrip embrace. Between the two, Sasuke knows whose torture he prefers. 

The door stands wide open after they depart, and Tsunade sighs, shoots Sakura a look like _no one does anything around here._ “Door.”

Shikamaru pokes his head in, looks between the two women with he hopes is a neutral expression. The underlying apprehension fails to escape their notice. 

_Click._

“I was kidding about the drink, you know."

“I’m still upset with you.”

“Well, if I know you,” the Hokage walks around her desk, standing in front of it and leaning back, still with a teasing tone, “you’ll let it go. You’re not great at grudges.”

“Do you know me, if you lost your bet?” Sakura tries and fails to keep her tone flat, a throwaway inquiry.

“I lose most of the time. But see, that’s what I can’t figure out, Sakura.” There’s something mocking about the way she taps a dagger-like, manicured fingernail on her chin, pretending to muse. “You’re strong, but deeply empathetic. A touch insecure, but hey, you’ll grow out of that. I did. You love your important people fiercely.”

She observes her former student, giving her an obvious once-over:The flyaway hair, the cutting edge in her gaze, arms folded; leaning on one hip to convey boredom, dismissal; the just-too-casual clothing with a pale strip of stomach showing. The earrings, visible through the shifting strands of her hair.

“But I guess I thought you were . . . a ‘good girl.’ Traditional, maybe. It seems like you’re trying to take control of something I can’t place. Or maybe, someone.”

“Don’t be mad because you lost.”

“I’m not judging you for it,” Tsunade says. A serious tone, honest. “I would never. What would that make me? The things I’ve done for some men? The things I’ve done _to _them? But don’t deny or hurt your heart trying to control the situation.”

“What are you saying?” She tightens her arms around her, reminiscent of a straightjacket. Like it’s all getting too intimate and close. With a shaking head and ghostly, familiar chuckles, her companion eases off the desk and stands in front of her, putting a hand on each of her arms. Unfolds them. 

With this, Sakura wilts a little. Lines in her forehead softening, smoothing themselves away. The cords of her muscles undulating, lengthening as she exhales some invisible burden or emotion. Her breath is shaky. 

“I’m saying don’t sabotage yourself. Be open with your team. Be honest with your inner self.”

“I thought you didn’t trust many people, especially many men.”

“Maybe . . . I don’t want you to do exactly what I’ve done.”

“How do you know this isn’t exactly what I want?” Her response comes out in a hiss, but it’s lacking malice. Lacking punch. Still, something glints in her eyes, cats toying with mice, the flashes of frenzy and arousal. 

Tenderly, Tsunade runs manicured fingers through Sakura’s choppy bangs, pushing them behind her ear to tsk-tsk at the bloody ruby in her ear. 

“Haven’t you already begun to bend him?”

There’s a considerable pause, and Sakura shivers a little at her touch, leaning into her hand. The tiny affections they share are few and far between, and Tsunade feels that Kakashi’s team in particular never seems to be sated; they simply fail to get enough. A universal weakness in the system in which people are fashioned into tools. 

“Did you tell him what happened to you?”

Now the pink-haired woman stiffens underneath her touch, locking up at this line of questioning. As a cover, she snorts and waves her hand away.

“You sure you’re not drinking? You’re awfully empathetic today.”

Tsunade shrugs, grinning from ear to ear. “What can I say? Maybe I’m sentimental in my . . . old age.” 

Sakura massages her fingers over a spot near her collarbone, staring off into space. There’s this look that settles over her eyes, clouded and hazy, like her senses are lost in something else. Kakashi’s concerns about his former team echo in Tsunade’s mind; on one hand, it’s her job to know the health of her shinobi. On the other, it’s delicate and fragile, and the consequences of it being written in reports would be a devastating blow. These are the details of wartime missions that go horrifically awry, and no matter how clinically they are recorded, detached and void of emotion and judgment, they color and bruise those involved, particularly the women. 

She feels like Sakura doesn’t need any more bruises. 

“For what it’s worth,” she says briskly, regaining her business-like stride, “I don’t think he’d blame you. I don’t think anyone on your team would.”

Sakura blinks rapidly, tuning in and out like a lost radio channel. Tsunade can almost see her crash back into her body, everything aligning again. 

“Maybe.” Sakura smiles and then it disappears, a wisp. “But I don’t like to think about what he’d do in response.”

“Well, like everything else, it’s your decision in the end.” Tsunade walks back around her desk, lowering herself into the chair with a haughty sigh. “Anyway, back to business, _again_.”

Shuffling through stacks of paper on her desk, she procures a scroll with a broken seal. Flicking it open with a fingernail, reads it for a moment; she lets it go and it springs back to its original shape. Tight. Hands it to Sakura, waving it at her. 

“This is what I wanted to show you. I need you to memorize it so I can seal it again.”

Sakura’s eyes ping from the scroll to the Hokage’s face and back. “So you’re not supposed to have this.”

“Glad I intercepted it. It’s important.”

The younger woman takes it and holds it open with both hands, eyes flitting fast as they drink in the words. What’s written, and what isn’t. A crease folds itself into her forehead, her thinking face. A long-held breath skitters out between her teeth, and she lets the scroll recoil back into shape once more. 

“There’s some code embedded, definitely.”

“Right, well, I don’t feel comfortable handing it over to the decryption unit with all the issues we’ve been having lately.”

Sakura thinks for a moment. “Shikamaru can take a look. And, I might know someone. If they work on it together, Shikamaru can keep an eye on him. It’s more eyes, but safer prospects.”

“Do you trust this person?”

Her jaw seems tight as she responds. “Not fully. But that’s the risk we’re taking with everyone, right? But he would do it for me.”

Tsunade throws back her head and laughs. “You’re a regular celebrity now, aren’t you? Soon you’ll have a fanclub. Make sure Ino and Kiba know.”

A red flush fills Sakura’s cheeks, and she looks away, trying and failing to look angry. “Damn it, why them?”

The Hokage’s still laughing, and Sakura isn’t sure how to cap the embarrassment of the leader of her village ribbing her endlessly, for her romantic popularity nonetheless. A few last _ha-ha!’_s of mirth, and Tsunade passes the back of her hand over her eyes. “They know you extremely well. Outside of your team, of course. I guess Kakashi lost because he’s a hopeless romantic. Or doesn’t want to believe you’re not a _good girl_.” Sakura releases a few weak chuckles, stricken at the suggestion of her former sensei in this context. Luckily, Tsunade continues. “Ino’s your best friend for a reason. And Kiba, well, maybe he learned a lot in the minute you two were together. He’s the only other person who called the conditions exactly.”

Sakura slaps a hand over her face, mortified. Feels her skin heating up beneath her palms, entertaining thoughts of homicide swirling in her brain. 

“Anyway, I’ll stop. Promise. You look like you’re going to explode. I have some actual, important things to discuss with you.”

“Sure, okay.” Sakura’s tone is skirting disrespect, but closes on sardonic. “Anything else mortifying and intimate you’d like to know?” 

“Really,” Tsunade says, bringing her hands together, interleaving her fingers. “There’s something of large importance that I’d like to run by you.”

Sakura blinks hard, once. “Why me?”

“Just need your thoughts.”

“Thoughts about . . . ?”

Tsunade sags in her chair a little, age and exhaustion breaking into the few lines in her face. Many forget, and it’s forgivable considering her appearance, that the decades she’s lived and the deaths on her shoulders are crushing. After the war she seems to give a little more, and it’s more and more difficult to hold up the tough façade. Those loved ones that are ghosts of her past and those who are reaching the upper limits of their abilities and strengths, slipping away at various ages, reach for her in moments of twilight. Over and over, she shakes Death off her, but misses their smiles no less. 

“About who’s going to take my place.”


End file.
